Nice Day for a Swim
by nhsweetcherry
Summary: You can't keep Gordon out of the water! Just a fun, random family adventure, maybe a little on the fluffy side...


_Thanks so much for reading…this is my first Thunderbirds fanfiction and may very well be the only one, as I tend to bounce between subjects pretty often. I had tons of fun writing it, though, and I appreciate any feedback you care to offer, whether it is praise or critique! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own International Rescue or its operatives, and I am making no profit from this story. _

Gordon Tracy was finally warm enough to unzip his fleece jacket. He glanced back over his shoulder and noticed that while Scott, John and Virgil still had their jackets zipped up to their chins, Alan looked perfectly comfortable in a T-shirt. The sunny, fifty-degree day in March must have felt like the first breath of summer to the youngest Tracy after a long winter at Wharton Academy in Massachusetts. The older four, on the other hand, accustomed to their tropical island home, would not have been too surprised if it had started to snow.

Regardless of the differing opinions on the weather, spring fever had definitely seized the entire family. Rescues had been quiet lately, and when their father needed to fly to the mainland to deal with some business, he had suggested that the older boys join him and drop in on Alan for a surprise visit. Shocked at first at the idea of abandoning International Rescue for a few hours, they had quickly become excited as they realized it was the perfect opportunity – especially because Brains was giving John a break from Thunderbird Five. It was rare for all five brothers to get time together. In addition, Massachusetts was finally getting a sunny day after a week of cold rain, so even the weather was cooperating.

So they had scrambled to gather civilian gear appropriate for spring weather in New England, flown to the mainland and sprung a very surprised – and thrilled – Alan from his afternoon classes. Now half an hour out on a hiking trail, they were all nearly giddy at the brief escape from their responsibilities, and Gordon grinned as he heard an outburst of laughter from behind him. His brothers sounded more like a bunch of wild teenagers than tough, professional International Rescue operatives.

Hearing rushing water ahead, Gordon perked up and strode a little faster, picking his way between rocks and puddles. Moments later the trees thinned out and he had a clear view of the river below. He paused to study the churning brown water with interest. Though the river was still several feet below the steep banks – not quite in flood stage – it was still a force to be reckoned with.

"Wanna go for a swim, Gordon?" Alan spoke up from behind him, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the water. "This river had ice in it a couple weeks ago, so I guarantee it would be refreshing!"

"Yeah, Gordon," John chimed in. "It's been a few hours since you've been in any water…you must be drying out by now!" He took a step toward his red-headed younger brother, an uncharacteristically wolfish grin on his face.

Gordon laughed, backing away. "Thanks, but I think I can hold out until I get back to the pool tonight." He swung around and started back up the trail. With the way his brothers were behaving, he would definitely be safer away from the water, though he doubted even they would take a joke so far as to throw him in the river – that water was dangerously cold and it would be a long hike back to the vehicle in wet clothes.

As the roar of the water began to fade, Gordon suddenly noticed that it had become too quiet behind him. Straining his ears, he caught a faint hint of whispering, a smothered laugh and then a shushing noise. He smirked. Prankster of pranksters, he knew when people were plotting behind his back. He kept his stride casual but listened carefully, curious as to what they would try. After a moment, to the accompaniment of more muffled laughter, he heard someone coming up close behind him, matching his stride…then, wham! A toe jammed into the heel of his sneaker and he almost fell on his face as his foot came halfway out of the shoe.

Gordon rolled his eyes. A flat tire? Seriously? That was the best they could come up with? Oh well – might as well play it up, let them feel like they'd accomplished something. Yelping in pretend surprise, he scuffled awkwardly along for a few steps before wheeling around to glare into Scott's triumphant face. Clearly fresh air wasn't good for the guy.

He balanced on one foot, trying to pull his shoe back on, but quickly gave up on that idea as his brothers swarmed past him, each giving him a swat or a shove that sent him hopping in a wild attempt to keep his balance.

"Sorry, Gords, we were tired of staring at your back end," Virgil commented, grinning, as he passed.

The shoe wasn't sliding back into place. As the others walked on, Gordon grumblingly dropped to one knee to completely re-tie the shoe. A moment later he bounced back upright, flexing his toes to make sure the laces weren't too tight. Satisfied, he took a step up the trail – but froze in his tracks at an indistinct sound from behind him. He looked around warily. His brothers had disappeared around a bend ahead, and he wouldn't have put it past them to try to circle around behind him, but he was sure they wouldn't have had time. He stepped forward again, but hesitated and then turned to go back toward the river. It was probably nothing, and he'd end up having to run to catch up to his brothers, but his instincts wouldn't let him walk away without knowing one way or the other. Halfway back to the river, he paused one more time, wondering if he should let the others know where he was going. Then he shrugged, his eyes sparkling with mischief – it wouldn't hurt anything to let them sweat a little.

Picking up the pace, he jogged back toward the river, his sense of urgency escalating as he identified the noise he'd heard. It was a very familiar sound in his business, he reflected wryly – panicked shouts. Skidding to a halt at the top of the bank, he took in the whole situation at a glance. A few yards upstream, on the near bank, a waterlogged canoe was slowly lumbering along, its occupants grasping at underbrush in an attempt to stop it. The passenger in the bow, a middle-aged woman, had lost her paddle and was shrieking something unintelligible at the top of her lungs. A man sat stiffly in the stern and still clutched his paddle but clearly didn't know how to use it properly.

Gordon shook his head – what kind of nuts would try to canoe on a raging, barely-thawed-out river? With a sigh, he started forward to help them, but then whipped around as he heard another high-pitched shriek from downstream. He gasped, finally understanding what the woman was yelling – "Cindy! My baby! Hang on, I'm coming!" – and dumped his backpack and jacket at the top of the bank. A little girl, _not_ wearing a lifejacket, was out in the middle of the river, being swept rapidly downstream by the powerful current. He heard his name being shouted from behind him but didn't hesitate – that girl needed help fast. Skidding down the bank, he plunged into the icy water.

Even knowing that it would be painfully cold didn't stop Gordon from gasping out loud as he leapt into the neck-deep water, but he quickly pushed aside thoughts of the temperature and set out with long, powerful strokes toward the little girl. The faster he rescued her, the sooner he could be warm and dry again. Hopefully his brothers would be willing to share some dry clothes with him.

A distant part of his mind, trained to listen for his brothers during rescues, caught bits and pieces of conversation from the river bank even as he focused on his task.

Alan, predictably, sounded off first – "Gordon, you idiot! What are you – " He shut up pretty quickly, either from brotherly intervention or because he had looked around and figured out for himself what was going on.

Then Scott, speaking from much closer – he must be running along the bank, needing to organize as usual – "You've almost got her, Gordon. Keep your head up, kid!"

Gordon assumed that last bit was meant for the little girl, but then again, with Scott's control issues, maybe it was best not to jump to conclusions. He was only a few feet away from the girl now; he surged forward with one last powerful stroke and caught the back of her shirt. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arm around her and holding her head above water. He let the current carry them for a moment as he caught his breath, but then began angling them toward shore – the little girl's whole body was shaking and he knew she needed to get out of the cold water soon. Her smaller body mass meant that she would succumb to hypothermia much more quickly than he would.

Watching out for rocks and logs just beneath the surface of the water, Gordon swam as hard as he could for shore, aiming for the steep bank where Scott stood; he knew that his oldest brother had probably picked a good place to leave the river. Sure enough, some big rocks formed a bit of a cove at that point, and Gordon could feel the tug of the current lessening as he slid in beside the cluster of boulders.

Scott knelt down and leaned over the edge, a good eight feet above Gordon's head. "If you climb up on that rock, we can pull you up," he suggested. At least, the average person would have interpreted it as a suggestion, but Gordon knew that he had just received an order from his Field Commander. Gordon smirked – Scott just couldn't help but be in charge, even on a very unofficial rescue.

Slithering awkwardly up onto the boulder, Gordon shivered in the cool breeze. Careful of his footing on the slippery surface, he levered himself up to a standing position. Ah, that was better – now he was within easy reach of the top of the bank. He passed his shivering bundle up to Scott, who handed the little girl off to someone behind him and turned back toward Gordon. Alan appeared at Scott's side and with their combined strength Gordon quickly joined his brothers at the top of the steep bank.

Gordon looked around and was glad to see that Virgil had the little girl wrapped in an emergency blanket and was checking her over. John and the girl's parents were picking their way through the trees. The woman still looked majorly stressed, but at least she was no longer screaming – John had clearly worked his magic again. As soon as she spotted the little girl, though, her restraint snapped.

"Cindy!" she screeched, flinging herself forward. "My baby! Are you okay?"

The look on Virgil's face was priceless as the woman hurtled toward him, but unfortunately Gordon only had a moment to savor it. The anxious mother plowed straight through the group of rescuers, catching Gordon in the chest with an elbow and sending him staggering back a step. The ground dropped out from beneath him and for a split second he thought he had stepped over the edge, but then his senses caught up to the sudden movement and he realized that a large section of the bank had actually given way underneath him. An ear-splitting screech clued him in that the woman must have gotten caught in the crumbling bank too, and a horrific mental picture shot through his mind of the woman landing on top of him and pinning him under the water. Good grief – his brothers would never let him live that down! But as he fell backward, during the split second before he hit the water, he saw that the woman was still well above him. She was screaming and uselessly flailing her legs around as Scott, John and Alan, wearing identical expressions of grim determination, desperately tried to drag her back over the edge of the bank.

Then he hit the water and all other thoughts – even the shock of the cold – were driven far from his mind as a searing pain tore through the right side of his lower back. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and it was only years of training that kept him from gasping in a lungful of water as the current grabbed him and sucked him under. After a few moments he broke through to the surface and automatically gulped in some air, but it was a little while longer before the stars began to fade from in front of his vision and his mind started to piece together the rapid sequence of events – he must have hit one of those boulders when he fell off the bank. That couldn't be good, he decided. Not just the injury itself, but the fact that his brothers practically flew into a panic if Gordon's back so much as stiffened up a little. He was pretty sure it was just a bruise, but he'd still be in for plenty of smothering if any of the others caught wind of it. Well, he'd deal with that _after_ he got back to shore. He tried to shift into a more horizontal swimming position, but the fierce pain seared through him again and he decided that maybe it would be better just to let the current carry him for a while until the pain faded. He could stand the cold a little while longer, right? In fact, the water really wasn't bad at all. Almost seemed warm…maybe the others would join him for a swim after they finished helping those people. Why was the water so warm in March, anyway? And why were his teeth chattering if he didn't feel cold?

The current suddenly swirled him around and smacked him against a rock; the fresh burst of pain jolted him back to wakefulness and he realized the cold must really be starting to affect him, dragging him down into a stupor. Okay, pain or no pain, it was definitely time to get back to dry land! Grimacing at how sluggish his limbs had become, he began slowly swimming toward shore. He glanced up to see how far away it was, then splashed to a halt and turned in a quick circle to look around.

"Uh-oh," he muttered to himself. "This could be interesting…" He definitely hadn't been paying enough attention to his surroundings. While he had been drifting along in a daze, the riverbanks had drawn in closer to each other and shifted from loose dirt and gravel to high, solid rock embankments. In addition, the ground was sloping downhill, causing the current to pick up even more speed. More boulders seemed to be jutting out of the water than before, sending a white spray up into the air.

Gordon hastily sifted through his mind for everything he knew about surviving in whitewater rapids, because evidently, whether he wanted to go for the ride or not, the river was about to whisk him through a narrow, twisting, rocky gorge. He only hoped there weren't any waterfalls.

Virgil and John raced along the riverbank, trying to catch up to their brothers. As soon as the woman had been pulled to safety – which had taken plenty of work due to her lack of cooperation – Scott and Alan had shot off through the trees after Gordon. John stuck around to see if Virgil needed any help dealing with the girl, or, more likely, with her parents.

Cindy was recovering nicely from the cold, thanks to Gordon's quick action in extracting her from the frigid water. Her parents had managed to keep from becoming completely soaked, and the father volunteered his dry jacket to wrap Cindy in once she was stripped from her wet clothes. The little girl was shivering but coherent and her core body temperature seemed fine, so Virgil sent them on their way with instructions to get checked out by their family doctor. Then he and John had taken off after the others.

They watched the water and the riverbanks, their apprehension rising as they went further and further downstream with no sign of any of their brothers. Why hadn't Gordon swam ashore yet? He could handle himself in rough water and knew that he would need to get out quickly in such cold conditions. Had he been injured somehow? Trapped underwater against a rock or fallen log?

"The river's narrowing," John pointed out.

Virgil nodded, noting the changes in the topography and their effect on the river. Great, now he didn't just have to think about the hazards of normal rivers, but also had whitewater rafting terminology running through his head: strainers, reversals, chutes, holes, undercut rocks, foot entrapment…Gordon had dragged each of his brothers along on a whitewater rafting trip at some point, so Virgil was well aware of the dangers a swimmer would face in such water. With a growl of frustration, he picked up the pace, determined to find Gordon soon so he could stop imagining what might have happened to him in the ten minutes he'd been out of sight.

_Well, that was…fun, _Gordon tried to convince himself as he lay sprawled facedown on a low, gravelly bank not far downstream from a six-foot waterfall, trying to catch his breath. He was still half in the water, and could feel the current tugging gently at his legs, but didn't have the strength yet to drag himself any further up. Anyway, his brothers would undoubtedly be along soon and were likely to be in full smother mode by this point. He might as well relax and let them do their thing.

Sure enough, within a couple minutes, he heard a shout.

"There he is!"

That was Alan; Scott wouldn't have wasted any breath on shouting, but would be focusing all of his energy on reaching Gordon's side. Realizing he should probably let them know he wasn't dead, Gordon managed to shove himself up onto his elbows and turn his head toward his rapidly approaching brothers.

"Hey," he said. Hmm…he'd been trying for a casual greeting, but it didn't work too well when his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. "You were right, Alan – the water is _very_ refreshing."

Alan snorted and looked a little less worried, but Scott's face was still grim as he dropped to his knees at Gordon's side.

"Are you hurt?" Scott demanded, his eyes flickering briefly toward the waterfall.

"Nah, I'm good," Gordon chattered, struggling to make his words coherent. "Probably a few bruises, but nothing broken. If you guys give me a hand, I think I can stand up."

Scott hesitated, undoubtedly reluctant to move Gordon before Virgil had checked him over, but when Gordon began to try to sit up on his own, Scott was quick to assist him. He and Alan each took one of Gordon's arms and gently pulled their redheaded brother up to his feet, moving him toward a dry, sunny slope a little ways distant. Gordon stumbled along between them, numb all over from the cold. He felt a slight twinge of pain from the bruise on his back and wondered vaguely if he had spoken too soon when he had said that he was okay – it was entirely possible that he had other injuries that he simply couldn't feel yet.

Virgil and John panted up to them at that moment, anxiously looking Gordon up and down.

Gordon grinned at them. "Nice day for a swim," he commented, shivering violently.

John rolled his eyes, while Virgil narrowed his. Gordon knew that his most medically trained brother was sizing up the situation and would begin barking out orders at any moment. Sure enough, having apparently satisfied himself with a quick visual inspection that Gordon had no immediately life-threatening injuries, Virgil began to address the hypothermia with snapped-out instructions.

"Right," he said, dropping his backpack to the ground and unzipping his jacket. "Gordon, get out of those wet clothes. You can use my shirt to dry off and wear someone else's. Let's see…we brought your jacket along, so we just need..." He looked around at the others and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Anyone volunteer to go without pants for the next hour?"

Alan bounced up and down in excitement, much to the amusement of his older brothers. "Hey, I know – I've got gym shorts in my bag!" he exclaimed. "I'll wear those and he can wear my jeans." He started fishing around in his backpack.

John glanced between Alan and Gordon, comparing their heights, and smirked. "Well, at least he's had some growth spurts lately, Gords, so you shouldn't look too much like a teenage girl in skinny jeans!"

Gordon snorted but was too distracted by the task of extricating himself from his wet clothes to come up with a proper retort. "Yeah, thanks, John." He finally managed to get his numb fingers to work the zipper on his pants and dropped them in a sodden heap off to the side. Pulling his dripping T-shirt over his head, he accepted Virgil's shirt and quickly dried himself off, carefully keeping his back turned away from his brothers so they wouldn't see his bruise and flip out. Moments later, clad in Alan's jeans, Scott's shirt and his own jacket, with an emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he felt the shivers finally begin to ease slightly.

Scott looked at him appraisingly, zipping his jacket over his bare torso. "You good to go, or do you want to rest a few minutes? If we can find a place out of the wind, the sun's pretty warm."

Gordon shook his head. "Let's get going. Walking will warm me up, and I think I've had enough of the great outdoors for today." Besides, as sensation returned to his limbs, a deep, intense ache was beginning to settle in his lower back. He suspected that the longer he waited, the worse it was going to hurt, and he'd rather be closer to civilization if he was going to be hobbled up.

They set off at a slow pace but in good spirits, hashing over the details of the rescue and Gordon's long, cold swim. As they passed the rapids, Alan looked at the stretch of water incredulously.

"You really got through all that with nothing more than a couple bruises? You sure gave your guardian angel a workout today!"

Gordon shrugged and grinned. "It's nothing I haven't done before – except usually the water's a little warmer. Although, you know, the water really doesn't feel bad at all once hypothermia sets in. You should try it, Al." He lightly shoved Alan toward the river.

Alan laughed. "Thanks, but I don't think we have enough clothes to go around if another one of us gets wet." He shook his head. "Man, I didn't know what to think when we saw you jumping in the river! It seriously was iced over just two or three weeks ago!"

"Good thing he heard those people shouting," John inserted soberly. "I doubt if that little girl would've lasted much longer."

"She wasn't even wearing a life jacket," Scott growled. "What did those people think they were doing?"

Gordon shook his head. "Lots of people get in trouble in the water this time of year. They underestimate the strength of the current or how cold the water is." _Or they get clobbered by rocks when they fall in…_An involuntary shiver ran through him and he pulled his blanket a little tighter, knowing that things could have been much worse. His sense of humor quickly reasserted itself, though, and he laughed out loud as he remembered one event from earlier. "Man, Virg, you should've seen the look on your face when that lady was charging toward you!"

Virgil chuckled sheepishly. "Well, I wasn't sure she was going to be able to stop in time."

"And then I was really glad you guys caught her when she fell over the edge," Gordon continued. "I thought for a second she was going to land on top of me!" As he had expected, this got a laugh from his brothers.

"Well, _I'm_ glad you didn't land on those rocks," Scott interjected. "That's all I could think about when the bank gave way and I saw you falling."

There was a long moment's pause before Gordon agreed brightly, "Yeah, that sure would've hurt." He winced – wow, that had sounded fake.

Scott stopped in his tracks and stared at him, his big brother radar clearly picking up on something. "Gordy, you _did_ miss those rocks, right?" he asked, his voice suddenly deadly serious.

Gordon shrugged. "Yeah..." He sighed. "Mostly." Hearing Scott's growl and sensing his other brothers closing in around him, he added hastily, "But I'm fine, totally fine – it's just a bruise!" Looking around at their faces, he groaned in resignation. "Okay, yeah, so maybe I should've said something, but it's not like you could do anything about it anyway."

"Wrong answer," Scott snapped. "Where?"

With a grimace, Gordon muttered, "My back." He rolled his eyes as his brothers all exchanged concerned glances. Yep, he'd definitely seen that reaction coming. With a gusty sigh, he handed the emergency blanket to Alan, turned around and pulled up his shirt and jacket so they could inspect his injury. "Well? Am I gonna live?" he asked sarcastically. He twisted his neck around. "What does it look like, anyway? I can't exactly see it, you know."

"Colorful," Alan told him, clearly impressed. "You scraped off some skin too. The cold water must've stopped it from bleeding earlier, but now it's starting up a little."

Gordon was shivering again. He tugged the hem of his shirt free from Scott's fingers and snatched his blanket back from Alan, wrapping himself up tightly. "Well, satisfied? I told you that there's nothing you can do about it," he grumbled. "So can we get going now, or are we gonna stand here all day?"

Scott speared him with an annoyed glare, then exchanged a glance with Virgil. The two were notorious in the family for their almost psychic communicative powers. Gordon watched with interest as their faces reddened – perfectly in sync. How did they _do_ that? Apparently Scott and Virgil came to some sort of an understanding, because after a moment, they turned to face Gordon once again.

"Fine," Scott said. "We'll keep moving. But no more secrets – if you start to feel any worse, we want to hear about it."

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. "And no more calling it 'just a bruise.' Don't you remember your training? What if you had damaged an organ? You could've been bleeding internally and we wouldn't even have known until you passed out!"

Gordon sighed gustily and turned to Alan. "Still sure you want to be on the team, Sprout? Every stubbed toe, every little cut on your finger, you get the list of symptoms to watch out for."

Scott stared at him expectantly. "And that list is?"

Rolling his eyes, Gordon counted off on his fingers as he grumbled, "Signs and symptoms of severe abdominal injury: severe pain, bruising, external bleeding, nausea and vomiting" – he pretended to gag – "pale, moist skin, weakness, thirst" – he took a swig from his water bottle – "a tight feeling in the abdomen, and organs protruding from the abdomen." He tried, without much success, to look backward over his shoulder. "Any protruding organs back there?" Surveying his audience, he wasn't too surprised to see Scott and Virgil eyeing him with identical stony expressions. John, however, had a glint of amusement in his eyes and Alan was grinning.

"Right," Virgil said sternly, refusing to smile. "Keep all that in mind and let us know if you start to experience any of it."

They began walking again and Alan clapped a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Trust me, Gords, when you see your back in a mirror, you'll understand why they're fussing. It really is kind of amazing that it _is_ 'just a bruise.'"

Gordon just grumbled under his breath in response.

When they were almost back to the car, Scott's cell phone rang. "It's Dad," he announced before answering. "Hello? Yeah, we're almost done…uh huh…um, hang on a sec." Scott glanced at Gordon. "Dad wants us to meet him at the Steakhouse for dinner. You up for that?"

Gordon opened his mouth to reply, but Virgil cut him off, frowning deeply. "I don't know, Scott. I'd kind of like to get him back to the island and run some scans."

Gordon spluttered indignantly. "Um, _hello_ – I've just been walking for an hour, with no signs or symptoms. I think if I were bleeding internally, something would've happened by now."

"He does have a point," John commented.

"Thanks, Johnny," Gordon muttered. John always knew when to stick up for a guy.

John whispered back, "No problem. Besides, I'm hungry."

On the other hand, John also tended to go a little food-crazy when he got back from a shift up on Five. So much for altruism.

Scott was talking again. "Yeah, I'm still here. Okay, we'll meet you there in an hour. Oh, wait – better make that an hour and a quarter. We'll need to swing by the school so Alan can get changed. What? Oh, because he loaned his jeans to Gordon."

Gordon, Alan and John looked at each other and burst into laughter, and even Virgil cracked a smile, wondering what their father thought of _that_.

Scott was finally smiling too. "Well, you know Gordon. We just couldn't keep him out of the water," he said. "But we'll tell you the whole story over dinner. Right. See you in a little bit." Scott ended the call and tucked his phone back in his pocket, fishing around in the other pocket for the car keys.

They slid into the car and set out, and it wasn't until halfway through the ride that Gordon found a position that was even remotely comfortable – kind of slumped over and leaning against Alan's shoulder. A deep weariness was seeping into him, overriding his aches and pains, weighing down his eyelids. He tried to fight it, but it was hard when he was finally warm and relaxed…

He jolted awake as pain shot through his back, and he looked up to see Scott wincing.

"Sorry, Squirt," Scott said. "We were trying to get you to the plane without waking you up." He was standing next to the car, his hand on the doorframe as he leaned into the back seat.

Gordon glanced around and was surprised to see that it was dark out. How long had he slept? "You guys don't have to skip supper because of me," he said, very confused.

Virgil, looking over Scott's shoulder, laughed softly. "Gords, we already had supper, dropped Alan off at school, and drove to the airport. You slept through the whole thing. But don't worry – Dad got you a meal to go in case you're hungry."

Gordon slowly stepped out of the car and straightened up, grimacing as sore muscles protested the movement. "Wait…I didn't get to say goodbye to Alan? Was he really annoyed?

John slid out of the car and stayed next to him as they walked over to the family jet. "He understood, Gords." He chuckled. "In fact, it took some work to convince him you would be fine sleeping while we ate. He went out and checked on you at least three times during the meal." John leaned closer and added in a whisper, "I think Dad, Scott and Virgil checked on you a couple times too, even though they said they were going to the bathroom."

Gordon sighed. "A whole family of smother hens, that's what we have, Johnny." It could come in handy sometimes, though, he thought as he noticed Scott carrying his backpack to the airplane for him. And he wasn't about to complain when a few minutes later, after they'd taken off, Virgil plied him with Tylenol, an ice pack and dinner.

After Gordon finished eating, he was considering taking another nap when John passed him his laptop.

"Alan called to see if you were awake yet," he explained.

Sure enough, Alan's face was grinning at Gordon from the screen. "Hey, sleeping beauty! Have a nice nap?"

Gordon snorted. "You should've woken me up – I probably won't be able to fall asleep tonight." He tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.

Alan just smirked at him. "Hey, did John tell you what Scott did in the restaurant?"

Gordon raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Perfect Tracy actually did something embarrassing? In public?"

"Yep – he totally traumatized our waitress. He forgot that he didn't have a shirt on, and he started to unzip his jacket – while she was taking his order. Dad was pretty surprised too, because we hadn't finished telling him the story yet."

Gordon laughed. "That's great! What happened then?"

"Well, Scott turned about thirteen shades of red, and the waitress tried to laugh it off, but she never looked at Scott the rest of the time and she seemed kind of jittery. It probably didn't help that John, Virgil and I kept busting out laughing every time we saw her."

They kept chatting until the plane was almost back to Tracy Island. Gordon signed off feeling a little better about missing out on spending time with his only younger brother.

Half an hour later, having arrived home and grumblingly allowed Virgil to run some scans on him, Gordon stood in the middle of his room and tried to decide whether he wanted to soak away his aches and pains in a hot bath or just go straight to bed. Remembering that he hadn't actually seen his injury yet, he stepped into his bathroom and pulled off his shirt, turning so he could see his back in the mirror. He blinked – wow. The bruise covered the entire lower right side of his back, starting as an angry red scrape in the middle and fading to light purple at the edges, with streaks of black and blue throughout.

"Can you see now why you had a little trouble convincing your brothers not to worry about you?"

Gordon jumped at the sudden voice. He turned to face his father, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Jeff Tracy's expression was a mix of amusement and concern as he watched Gordon.

The redhead shrugged. "I just didn't want them flipping out. You know how they get when there's any sort of problem with my back."

"What if it had been more serious than a bruise, though?" Jeff asked sternly. "Suppose you suspected that you were bleeding internally, but you pretended nothing was wrong and then collapsed a few minutes later. What would be going through your brothers' minds?"

Gordon winced. He knew exactly what would have happened: they would all feel guilty, Scott and Virgil in particular – Scott just because that was the way he was and Virgil because he seemed to take every medical issue in the family personally.

"You and your brothers need to be able to trust each other to speak up when you need help, even if it means swallowing your pride," Jeff continued. "In general, you all do a good job of this, but sometimes it's important to remember that being a part of a team – and a family – means admitting your weaknesses and accepting help." His face softened as he looked at Gordon's sober expression, and he stepped forward to put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "That being said, I'm very proud of what you did today. You knew the water was dangerous, but you didn't hesitate to help someone in need. Because of your quick response, that little girl is safe, healthy and with her family. I'm proud of you, Gordon." Smiling, he squeezed Gordon's shoulder and turned to exit the room. "Good night, son."

"'Night, Dad," Gordon replied.

Now feeling mentally exhausted as well as physically, Gordon stood in his bathroom for a full minute before deciding that he simply didn't have the energy for a bath. Shuffling back out to the bedroom, he changed into shorts. He stared at the unfamiliar jeans he'd been wearing, puzzled for a moment before he remembered that they were Alan's. Well, they'd certainly managed to give their youngest brother a memorable afternoon, he thought, smiling. They worked well together as a team; he looked forward to the day when Alan would join them full-time.

He was standing in the middle of his bedroom, Alan's jeans dangling from his fingers, totally lost in his thoughts, when he heard a polite cough from the doorway. He blinked – Scott, Virgil and John stood there, watching him. He wondered how long they'd been there; if their expressions were any clue, it had been a little while.

"How's it going, Gords?" Scott asked, his solicitous tone a contrast to his amused expression. "You need us to tuck you in?"

Gordon dropped the jeans. "Thanks, but I'm all set with that." He limped to his bed and settled down on the edge with a long sigh.

Virgil watched Gordon's stiff movements critically. "Anything we can do to help? Ice pack, maybe?"

Opening his mouth to say he was fine, Gordon paused as he remembered his father's advice. He shot Virgil a pleading glance. "Can I use my heating pad instead? Ice is cold." He shivered involuntarily.

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, sure – though you'll want to ice it again tomorrow." He dragged Gordon's heating pad out from under the bed and plugged it in, then gestured for Gordon to lie down.

Gordon slid under the covers and cautiously settled down onto his left side, his eyes beginning to droop almost immediately. He felt Virgil get the heating pad situated over the bruise, then snorted with laughter as his brother pulled the covers up around him and carefully tucked him in. "Couldn't help yourself, huh, Virg?" he said sleepily.

"You're welcome," Virgil huffed, but there was a smile in his voice. "Sleep tight!"

"Night, Gords!" John called over his shoulder as he left the room, turning off the light but leaving the door open a crack.

"G'night," Gordon replied. Then he frowned – why hadn't Scott said anything? His question was answered when he heard a chair being pulled up alongside the bed, and he hid a smirk. The Smother-Hen was keeping vigil again. Since it wasn't a particularly serious injury, Scott probably wouldn't stay long, but he apparently felt the need to watch over his brother for at least a few minutes. He'd been known to spend literally days at the bedside of a critically injured brother; Gordon had always supposed that it was Scott's way of having some sort of control over the situation. In any case, it was a comfortable, familiar feeling to know that the strong figure was there, ready to protect, comfort or simply watch.

Gordon's mind flickered through the events of the day, and he smiled drowsily. He'd probably be off active duty for a few days. Maybe in a day or two he'd see if Jeff would let him return Alan's jeans in person…he drifted off to sleep thinking of the fun he and his younger brother could have without the older three to keep an eye on them. No swimming, though…


End file.
